In the profound stillness of Aethelgard, Kairen took his place on the stone platform by the waterfall. The thundering roar, which he had once fought as an enemy, now felt like a familiar shield, a wall of sound that insulated him from the quiet, lonely valley.
He had succeeded in summoning a single, controlled drop of Essence. The memory of it—that cool, obedient wisp of starlight pulsing in his palm—was a constant, burning ember of hope in his mind. He had held it, felt its power. Now, Vanamali had given him the next, far more daunting task.
"You have invited the Essence," Vanamali had said, his voice a calm presence in the mist, his gaze fixed on the thundering water. "It answered. You have held a single drop. That is the first word of a long and complex sentence."
